to the bay windows, blinking against light that seemed much too bright.
Was this a migraine? Jace had read about them but never experienced
one.
Once his eyes adjusted and he could see the backyard desperately
needed cutting, he turned to find another sun shining on him. Ben had
that look in his eyes, the one that said: Oh my gosh, I love you so much
and I really want you to take off those boxers.
Jace held back a smile. “I thought I wore you out last night?”
“I slept well.” Ben’s bedroom eyes suggested they head there now.
Why not? Maybe the endorphins would help his head. A fresh throb
of pain shuddered through his skull. Jace pictured his head cracking
open, like the ground in an earthquake.
Ben’s amorous expression turned to one of concern. “Are you all
right?”
“My head is killing me,” Jace admitted.
“You didn’t drink anything last night.”
“No, but I’m beginning to wish I had, especially if I’m going to have
the hangover anyway.” Jace sat at the kitchen table across from Ben,
rubbing his temples. This had to be a migraine. “Grab me a couple
aspirin, would you?”
“Sure.” Ben stood, watching him a moment before he rushed from
the room.
Jace closed his eyes while he waited, the usual dark of his inner
eyelids now red, hot, and burning. He could almost see a singular flat
line, searing with heat, like the glowing metal in a toaster.
“Maybe it was something you ate?” Ben said on his way back in the
room. “Is your stomach okay? You could be coming down with a bug.”
Jace shook his head, holding out his hand for the aspirin. He tossed
them into his mouth, sending them on their merry way with a hearty swig
of coffee. God speed, little pills! He was trying to set the cup on the table
when his hand spasmed. He heard the cup break on the floor, felt some of
the coffee splatter against his leg. When he looked down, it seemed like
there were two cups, two puddles, two messes.
“So clumsy,” Jace said. He needed to clean up and get back in bed.
When he stood, his head responded with fury. The red line in his mind
intensified, the glowing heat translating into screeching pain that
threatened to cripple him. All he could see was the red line, growing
thicker at an alarming rate, his pain increasing to impossible levels as it
filled the horizon.
Then nothing. Sweet blissful nothing.
* * * * *
The sensation of spinning. Nothing. Bright lights, white rooms.
Nothing. Detached eyes above light blue masks. Nothing.
Then the same scene, over and over again. A dim room with curtains
pulled shut, in front of them many faces, all wearing the same expression
of concern. Ben. Michelle. Jace’s father. Ben. Jace’s mother. Bernard.
Michelle. Ben. Greg. Jace’s mother. Ben. Ben. Ben.
Finally the faces slowed, settling on Ben, who was staring off into—
Where was he? Jace glanced around the room. A clutter of tubes and
bags stood vigil on one side of his bed. In front of him, a television was
mounted on the ceiling. A hospital? Jace rolled his head back over to
face Ben, catching his attention.
“Why am I here?” Jace asked.
Ben took a deep breath, as if disappointed by the question. “You’re
in the hospital,” he said as if reading from a script. “You had an
aneurysm, but you’re okay now. You just need to get better.”
Jace exhaled, looking back up at the television, staring at the
confusing reflections on the darkened glass. Then he glanced back over
at Ben, who didn’t look hopeful.
“Is that the truth?”
Ben sighed, squeezing his hand. “Yes. I promise.”
Jace tried to remember what had happened. He and Ben had stayed
up late making love. No, there was more after that. A morning that was
too bright, and the headache, but it was a blur. “I don’t remember how I
got here.”
“I know,” Ben said. “We have this conversation a few times every
day. They say it’s your short-term memory. You wake up, ask what’s
going on, and once you close your eyes again, you seem to forget. They
say you might get better though. I think you’ll get better.”
Ben’s face crumpled. Jace wanted to comfort him, but he was tired.
“Tell me one more time,” he said. “This time I won’t forget. I promise.”
Ben took a deep breath. “You collapsed in the kitchen and lost
consciousness. You wouldn’t respond—”
Ben’s voice became a squeak, and he needed a few minutes before
he could continue. Jace felt like closing his eyes, but he’d promised to
remember. Instead he focused on the sliver of daylight he could see
between the curtains.
“An ambulance brought you here,” Ben said. “They operated on you
for five hours. Your parents flew down immediately and arrived just
when you were coming out of surgery. Everyone’s here. We all love you.
Okay?”
Jace nodded, feeling tired. He needed Ben to hurry up and finish so
he could go back to sleep. “What else?”
“Nothing,” Ben said. “You’ve been here for a week, and the last
couple of days you and I keep having this same conversation. I don’t
care, though. It doesn’t matter if this is all we have left because I love
you, and I’m so glad you didn’t die!”
Ben was crying, and Jace felt a pang of guilt, but he couldn’t find the
energy to comfort him. His eyelids were so heavy. He needed rest. All he
could do was give in…
When he opened his eyes again, the television was on, the sound
muted. A police officer was shoving a suited man into a car, cameras
flashing, capturing every angle. When Jace turned his head, Ben was
there, frowning at a book. The line of daylight between the curtains had
gone. How long had Ben been sitting there? All week, night and day?
Jace could imagine his mother making Ben leave if only to get some
sleep, but aside from that, he knew Ben had been there, waiting for him
to get better, to come back to him.
Next to Ben was a tray of uneaten food. Only the juice box had been
touched, punctured by a straw. Considering Jace’s condition, he doubted
the food was for him. Suddenly he wanted to see Ben eat, to see him
smile or laugh or do anything besides sitting there in the gloom like a
flower without sun.
“I’m sorry about all of this,” Jace said.
Ben looked up, his face registering surprise. “About what?”
“All of it,” Jace said, managing to gesture with one of his hands.
“The hospital, the aneurysm, scaring you like that.”
Ben was still staring. “You remember?”
He did. At least when it came to the morning of his headache, taking
the aspirin, and dropping the coffee. After that everything was a blur,
aside from the previous conversation he and Ben had shared. “Of
course,” Jace said, smiling gently. “I’ve got a memory like an elephant.”
Ben laughed in disbelief, tears streaming down his cheeks. Then he
tossed aside the book and covered Jace’s face in kisses. By the time he
was finished, Jace’s face was wet, although whether it was from Ben’s
tears or slobber, he didn’t know. Nor did he care. He was just happy to
see Ben smile again.
Chapter Thirty-two
“I’m going with you,” Jace said, ready to throw a fit worthy of a
toddler denied a new toy.
Ben stood by the front door of their home, car keys in hand. “I’ll be
back in half an hour. It’s just the grocery store.”
“Which sounds like the most fun place in the world!” Jace said.
Ben considered him like an amateur doctor trying to make a
diagnosis. Was the patient feeling well? Was this behavior one of the
many side effects? Over the last month, Jace had seen this expression
countless times, not just from Ben but from the reflection in the mirror as
well. Jace was doing better, there was no doubt about it, but he also felt
like someone else had moved into his mind while he was being operated
on. Jace was possessed by a side of himself he still struggled to
understand.
“I guess if you really really want to tag along,” Ben said, sounding
anything but certain. “But what if you—”
“Freak out,” Jace finished for him.
He wished Ben hadn’t voiced this concern, especially since Jace
shared it already. Sometimes, like now, he felt perfectly fine. A little
more on edge, maybe, but generally the same as he’d always been. Other
times, lights were too bright for him, just like on the morning he’d had
his aneurysm. Or sounds were too loud. That was something new.
Sometimes Ben had to whisper to him. Naturally being in public when
that happened wouldn’t be good.
“I can’t live my whole life in this house,” Jace said. “All I’ve done
the last month is sit around here or go to physical therapy.”
“You only have two weeks left,” Ben said. “After that you can go
where you please.”
“Two weeks!” Jace said, stressing it to make it sound like an
eternity. “That’s it! I give up. If my whole life is going to be spent in this
house, I might as well embrace it by staying home and getting
repulsively fat. Better buy a bucket and mop while you’re out to scrub
my hippopotamus body with.”
“I’ll add it to the list,” Ben said, a smile tugging the corner of his
mouth. “Oh, fine! You’ll only slow me down, but let’s go.”
Jace felt like shouting with joy as they got in the car. What he
wanted most was to feel like an adult again. Recovering from his surgery
not only meant physical rehabilitation, but seeing a counselor. Jace found
this unnecessary. Most of the time he was just so happy to be alive that
he didn’t feel sorry for himself. Then again, other times he felt like he
wasn’t in control, especially when he snapped at Ben or lashed out at the
world for having so many things to remember. But mostly he was fine.
Ben, on the other hand, still acted like Jace was fragile. Often Jace
would find Ben watching him, braced for the worst to happen again.
When they touched, Ben treated him like a china doll. That they hadn’t
had sex since the aneurysm was the ultimate example of this. Even now
he kept glancing over, as if driving Jace anywhere but rehab was
somehow endangering him.
“Two more weeks and I’m done,” Jace said.
“I know.”
“And then I want you to treat me like a normal human being again.”
Ben nodded and exhaled. “I’m sorry. I will. In fact, I have some
news in that regard. It was supposed to be a surprise, but my parents
rented a cabin for us.”
“Really?”
“Yup. To celebrate you making it through physical therapy. And
hell, you might as well enjoy the time off from work.”
Which Jace didn’t, but he let it slide. Talking to Ben about how eager
he was to return to the skies would probably give him a heart attack.
“Where’s the cabin?”
Ben grinned. “The Ozarks.”
Which wasn’t too far from Warrensburg. “They want me to see my
parents, huh?”
“Yeah, I think that was part of the idea. I guess they’re thinking
about how they’d feel if something happened to me.”
“It’s very thoughtful,” Jace said. Then he started looking around,
commenting on anything he could see, no matter how mundane. Every
conversation as of late led back to the stupid aneurysm. He was quickly
tiring of it dominating his life. In the parking lot, as they were walking
into the store, he found the perfect distraction: a grocery list tumbling
across the concrete.
He picked it up and glanced over it. “Interesting what a grocery list
says about someone,” Jace said. “Why would they need ten pounds of
chicken? A giant chicken salad for a party?”
“They could have dogs,” Ben said, glancing over his shoulder.
“Some people make their own pet food. I’ve been thinking about trying
that for Samson.”
“He’s fat enough already,” Jace said.
“That’s the point. Lean chicken has to be better than whatever they
put in those cans.”
“Hm, let me see our list for a second.”
Once Ben handed it to him, Jace crumpled it and tossed it in a
trashcan by the door.
“Hey!” Ben spun around, as if to dig it back out.
“Nope,” Jace said, grabbing his arm and dragging him in the store.
“We’re using this list now. It’s the only way to figure out the kind of
person who wrote it.”
Ben looked skyward. “This is why I can’t take you anywhere. I had
meals planned. What are we going to do with ten pounds of chicken?”
“Make cat food,” Jace said as if it were obvious.
“Fine,” Ben said, taking a grocery cart. “What’s first on the list?”
“Marshmallows.”
“And then?” Ben asked, craning to see.
“Hot dog buns.”
Ben shook his head and pushed the cart. “Dinner’s going to be
interesting tonight.”
Jace grinned. “I’m enjoying this. I think I’ll do the grocery shopping
from now on.”
“In that case, I’ll be eating out more often. Isn’t there any fresh
produce on the list?”
“Uh,” Jace scanned it. “A watermelon.”
“Great!” Ben said. “Something fresh between mouthfuls of
marshmallows and chicken. Do we really have to do this?”
“Yes,” Jace said. “Keep your eyes peeled. The person could still be
here.”
“The one who dropped that list, you mean?” Ben glanced around.
“You’re right. Maybe there’s a reward.”
As they continued shopping, they not-so-casually peered into every
cart they passed, trying to assess if any other shopper was collecting the
same items. Everyone became a suspect in the biggest case of the
century. Did the overweight man in the frozen foods section need
marshmallows and chocolate? Or the skinny woman loitering in the
canned goods aisle? Maybe she bought the foods she wouldn’t allow
herself to eat, staring at them all night without partaking.
“She does look hungry,” Ben said, running with this theory.
“But she wouldn’t need three boxes of graham crackers,” Jace said.
“One would do.”
“S’mores!” Ben declared, loud enough that Jace would have winced
even without his recent health problems. “The person is buying
ingredients to make s’mores!”
“Could be,” Jace said, scanning the list. “Most things on here aren’t
perishable, which is good for a camping trip.”
Ben looked thrilled. “We cracked the case!”
“Maybe,” Jace said. “Although chicken doesn’t keep well in the
woods.”
Ben’s shoulders slumped. “True.”
